


Flowers for Dorian

by CourtneyCocoa



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Depression, Flowers, Fluff, Kittens, M/M, cherry scones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 09:37:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10241726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourtneyCocoa/pseuds/CourtneyCocoa
Summary: Dorian isn't adjusting well to life at Skyhold and can't get thoughts of Tevinter out of his head. His friends are worried, and try to reach out to him.





	

  


It started with a sunflower on his windowsill.

 

Dorian was isolating himself. It wasn’t intentional, but he’d spend whole days alone in his room with a book or in the library burying himself under research. He was just so tired, and it felt like this exhaustion seeped all the way to his bones despite the fact that he couldn’t bring himself to do much of anything. It irritated him so much that he forced himself up the stairs of the rotunda every morning and tried to get as much work done as possible, ignoring the fog in his head and the looks the librarians gave him. Since he no longer had to worry about Alexius or where his next meal was coming from, Dorian found that he had an unprecedented amount of time on his hands since his departure from Qarinus. He tried to devote it to being useful to the Inquisition, he wouldn’t let it be said that the only Tevinter in the organization wasn’t pulling his weight.

 

But every morning he stayed in the library, going from book to book without absorbing a word until his inability to concentrate eventually drove him back to the quiet of his room, and his bed. Sleep eluded him most nights, and he spent hours staring at the stone ceiling, trying to push past the fog and _focus_ but his thoughts would always scatter to memories of home and the feeling of the hot sun warming his skin as he walked through the gardens of his father’s estate. Thoughts of Tevinter and his father made him feel like he had been stabbed in the chest with icicle, and any chance of sleep would be lost. He rolled out of bed in the dead of night, fumbled around in the dark for his notes, and made his way through the moonlit hallways toward the library, and the day would begin again.

 

His midnight walks up and down the spiral of stairs sometimes brought him face to face with the Inquisitor. They hadn’t really had a chance to talk since their return from Redcliffe Castle and Dorian regretted not knowing the jovial Qunari better. The Inquisitor could usually be spotted from several meters away. Kaaras Adaar was tall, even by Qunari standards, and darker than the thunderstorm grey that Dorian assumed most Qunari were. Adaar was the color of a moonless night. His skin shone like volcanic glass and the gold that adorned the curl of his horns twinkled like stars in the candlelight. Every time they passed each other, Adaar immediately stopped what he was doing to greet him brightly and inquire about how their resident Tevinter mage was holding up ( _Are your quarters warm enough? Scout Harding mentioned you had some concerns about the Winter Palace? Flissa makes incredible peach turnovers; you should join us in the kitchens one day)_ before inviting Dorian for a walk on one of the several mountain trails surrounding Skyhold that they both knew the man was too busy for.

 

Even if Inquisitor Adaar didn’t spend all hours of the day and night addressing problems and solving disputes (did the man ever sleep?), whenever Dorian managed to scrape together enough energy to go outside the fierce Ferelden winter made him regret the decision almost immediately. The Inquisition had only just settled in Skyhold, and he had hoped that their journey from Haven would bring them far enough North to see some actual sunshine. But since arriving in their new home the Inquisition had only experienced the typical grey of a southern winter and it’s slushy snowfalls that were occasionally interrupted by hailstorms coming from the direction of the Waking Sea. No, going outside seemed like a terrible idea to Dorian, who declined the Inquisitor’s offers every time and was amazed by how disappointed the man seemed.

 

After weeks of this Varric intervened. Dorian had worked through dinner then managed a solid five hours of sleep before a nightmare shook him awake. He rubbed the sand from his eyes then began gathering his things when a rapping at the door caught his attention. Dorian opened it to find a wide-eyed Varric standing in his doorway, staring at Dorian like he was a ghost. Varric took a moment to make sure that Dorian was properly dressed before shuffling him off to the Herald’s Rest where he said The Iron Bull and the Chargers were treating Dorian to a “well needed night out.” Several drinks, warm conversations, and expressed concerns over Dorian’s health had the mage feeling more at ease than he had in weeks. He declined Bull’s heartfelt offer to lend Dorian his bed for the night and made his way back to the castle alone. When he entered his room, he was surprised to find the window ajar and moonlight filtering in onto a carefully placed sunflower on his windowsill.

 

The flower was the size of his hand and its brilliant yellow color looked almost iridescent in the muted blue and grey of his bedroom. There was no note attached and no clue to who it may have come from. The soft petals were wax-like and smooth between his fingertips unlike the flower’s dark fuzzy center, which filled his room with a sweet scent. Sunflowers were popular in Tevinter, and those who could afford it sometimes kept manicured ones in glass vases during the summer months. The sunflowers that his mother had kept in her private rooms were always completely symmetrical, the same uniform color and size. However, on a trip to the countryside Dorian had once seen whole fields of wild ones growing up to his shoulder. They came in every shade of yellow imaginable, most displaying two or more hues on uneven petals that fluttered wildly in the wind.

 

Dorian twirled the flower carefully then tucked it into an old tea mug, placing it in its original spot on his windowsill. He wondered briefly who could have left him such a gift while he gathered his things and made his way through the darkness toward the library.

 

…

 

Dorian Pavus, the Tevinter native who wasn’t a magister or a blood mage, was snoozing softly, his head leaning against the arm of a chair tucked into a secluded nook in the library and his arm still curled around an open book while a blizzard beat against the window beside him. He was even snoring a bit. Flissa wondered if she should come back later, this was clearly a bad time and the mage looked so at peace (and not scary at all, maybe the Inquisitor was right). She fumbled with the basket in her hands while she deliberated, conscious of the people eyeing her between shelves curiously. Squaring her shoulders, she cleared her throat and tapped the mage lightly on the shoulder.

 

It took two more taps before Dorian jolted awake. “Hm?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and squinting at the girl in front of him. “Ah yes, what can I do for you…er?”

 

“Flissa” She curtsied quickly then handed the still steaming basket to Dorian. “It is a pleasure, Messere Pavus. We met briefly before the evacuation of Haven. You saved me from burning to death in that fire?” She laughed nervously and fidgeted a bit. “I wanted to extend an invitation to you to join my baking group; we meet every other Wednesday in the lower kitchens. Anyone with a sweet tooth or midnight cravings is welcome and Master Dennet is teaching us how to make cherry scones tonight. It will be fun!”

 

She offered a wan smile and continued, anxiously gesturing to the basket in Dorian’s lap. “That is cinnamon bread with hazelnuts and raisins, and I packed some cheese in there for you as well. Sera mentioned that you might not have been eating much and the Inquisitor thought you would appreciate a sort of welcome gift to the Inquisition. As well as a thank you gift, for my life.” She rambled on. Dorian glanced at the loaf of bread wrapped in cloth. It smelled absolutely delicious. He got to his feet and gave Flissa a graceful bow, making sure that his hands were visible at all times. He hoped it would put the poor girl at ease.

 

“Thank you Flissa, this was very generous of you. I don’t know if my cooking skills are up to par, but…I’ll do my best to make the meeting tonight. And please pass my gratitude on to Sera and the Inquisitor for me.” He said, voice steady. The gesture did in fact meant a great deal to him, more than he would have previously thought. He suddenly felt painfully hungry, and cursed himself for skipping lunch to discuss their upcoming trip to Crestwood with Leliana.

 

“Of course!” She said, more sure of herself this time. “And if you know anyone who might be interested in coming be sure to spread the word.” She curtsied again and began to walk off when Dorian caught a flash of scarlet in the corner of his eye. On the side table, between tea stained research notes and a pile of precariously stacked books, was a poppy. It was a fiery shade of red even in the shadows of the library, with a dark center like spilled ink that drew Dorian in. The contrast was beautiful.

 

“Flissa” Dorian picked the flower up carefully then held it between them. He knew the answer before he asked the question, but he had to know for sure. “Was this a part of your gift perhaps?”

 

Flissa turned slowly and shook her head. “No Messere, that flower was there when I found you.”

 

“Of course.” He sighed. “Did you see who left it?”

 

“No.” Flissa tapped her chin as she thought about it for a moment. “But I did pass Inquisitor Adaar on the way in, he might know.”

 

“The Inquisitor?” Dorian felt a hitch in his chest and squeezed the flower a little tighter than necessary. What was the man playing at? Was this some kind of elaborate Tal-Vashoth courting ritual? He was getting ahead of himself, which was dangerous. Flissa could be right, the Inquisitor might have only seen the mysterious paramour, if who ever was leaving the flowers was a paramour at all. It could be a prank for all Dorian knew, or something equally humiliating. He could list several people who objected to his presence in the Inquisition.

 

Dorian brought his attention back to Flissa but the thoughts kept churning in his head. He needed answers, and if the Inquisitor happened to be at the meeting tonight he would get them, one way or another.

 

“Thank you Flissa, you’ve been very helpful.” He nodded and let her walk off this time before scowling at the eavesdroppers and returning to his chair. The blizzard outside raged on, and Dorian suddenly felt very homesick. He reopened the tome he had been reading before he dozed off, and tried to concentrate.

 

…

 

Dorian stood in front of the door to the lower kitchens, heart pounding in his chest. He felt paralyzed. It was fifteen minutes after dinner officially ended and he had come straight here from the library after leaving his notes and supplies in his room, along with the mysterious poppy. He carried a small piece of the cinnamon bread, which had ended up being his dinner, wrapped tightly in cloth in the pocket of his robe. He’d only been standing there for about five minutes, but it felt like an eternity.

 

Warm light filtered through the cracks in the doorway along with the clamor of around fifteen people talking over each other. The sugary smell of honey and fruit drifted into the hallway and Dorian wondered if they had already begun. He grasped the doorknob with damp palms and immediately felt dizzy. When had this become difficult for him? He had spent years living as a pariah among his circle of friends, and had handled it with charm and grace. Maybe he had become too comfortable in his solitude. Is that why he was itching to head back to his own room? Presenting himself to a small group of commoners never would have given him pause in Tevinter, but Dorian had a whole separate set of problems at home.

 

_You are no son of mine!_

They’re just people. Open the door.

 

A cold sweat ran down Dorian’s back and he shivered. Three loud bangs came from within the kitchen, snapping him out of his daze. Someone had slammed a solid object against the counter, and a stern voice rose above the dwindling chatter. “Good evening everyone! If we are ready to begin?” Master Dennet shouted. Dorian took a deep breath but still couldn’t inch himself forward. Heavy footsteps followed by the chink of armor and whispering voices echoed down the hallway, coming towards his direction.

 

“ _Fasta Vass!_ ” he muttered, glaring at the doorway with a pained expression before walking in the opposite direction of the footsteps. He didn’t know where he was walking to but he was grateful for the quiet, although he couldn’t shake the stuttering in his chest. He had never felt anything like that before, and was beginning to wonder if his father’s ritual had accomplished something after all.

 

Soon, he heard an altogether different sound coming from his right. Someone was swearing loudly, followed by the hiss of an animal and a loud _thump_. Still not quite sure where he was going, Dorian followed the sound down a side passage and into a decrepit storage room where Sera was kneeling under a bookshelf that looked like it would collapse on her at any moment.

 

“Sera, what are you doing?” Dorian asked, and heard another _thump_ as Sera’s head hit the bottom of the shelf. She withdrew from the crawlspace, holding her head and looking flustered. Every inch of her was covered in dust and soot. “I wasn’t doing nothing” she cried, then narrowed her eyes. “Dorian, what are you doing here?” Before she could continue her line of questioning a weak whimper came from under the bookshelf and she dove back underneath to see what was happening.

 

“I was on my way to Flissa’s baking group when I heard your voice. I just followed the profanities.” Dorian kneeled on the gravel beside her and glanced under the bookshelf, but all he saw was darkness. “What’s under there?”

 

“Two cats that were trapped under all this rubble-” She gestured wildly to the general state of disrepair the room was in, “for Andraste knows how long! They were half frozen when I dug them out and looked starved. I think one of them’s hurt, but when I went to look closer they both bolted under the friggen shelf.” Her hands disappeared under the bookshelf again, and Dorian heard the same nervous whimper. He scanned under the shelf again and this time he could make out two small shadows shivering violently in the far corner. There was so much dust and debris under there that it was a wonder they could breathe at all. Sera’s attempts to reach them were unsuccessful, and moving the bookshelf might frighten them into running again.

 

He deliberated for a moment before reaching for the piece of bread in his pocket and placing it in front of the shelf. Dorian unwrapped it slowly, letting the warm scent of sugar and spice fill the air before placing a small bite of it under the bookcase. The effect was immediate. Tiny paws scampered forward and in the blink of an eye the bread was gone.

 

“There they are! Do it again!” Sera whispered and inched closer to get a better look. Dorian picked the raisins and nuts out of the bread before breaking it in half and placing the larger piece a little further away from the shelf, making the cats choose between the crawlspace and the food. After a moment they emerged, tiny black balls of fur covered in patches of soot with striking green eyes the color of fade rifts. Sera was practically bouncing with excitement beside him and these weren’t cats at all, Dorian thought, they were kittens, barely the size of his outstretched hand. The cats made indignant noises when the bread was finished, eyeing the second piece in Dorian’s hands but still wary of people they didn’t recognize. Dorian handed Sera the last piece, and she lowered herself until she was eye level with them. They moved toward her. “You see the one on the left? She’s limping! There’s blood caked into the fur.” Sera pointed to the kitten in question, but when her hand reached out the other kitten pounced on it playfully.

 

“I think you made a friend.” Dorian said, carefully picking up the other kitten and inspecting her leg. There was a long wound near her ankle encrusted with dried blood. She had been slashed with something sharp but thin. It didn’t look too serious, but Maker knows how long the wound had been there. The cat was watching Dorian carefully, curious but not suspicious, and still shivering from the cold. Dorian wrapped her in what remained of the cheesecloth Flissa had given him, and she seemed grateful.

 

Sera shook with laughter as her kitten rolled around on her stomach, purring. She stood up and stretched, the cat twisting in her arms and trying to climb up to her shoulder. “They’re probably still starving. We should get them more food. Proper food, like fish or something” she looked to Dorian while her cat wrestled the last bit of bread from her grasp and tore into it. Dorian stood and his cat seemed perfectly content in the crook of his arm. They made their way back toward the kitchens, and a tendril of dread gripped Dorian’s heart when he realized where Sera was leading them. Before he could voice his concerns, think of a viable excuse that would extricate him from the situation, anything, Sera turned towards him with a hurt expression, like Dorian had said something that offended her.

 

“Where have you been Dorian? Did you know we’ve been looking for you? I even went to your room a couple of times but you were never there” she frowned, hugging her kitten tighter as it began twisting again. Dorian pondered whom the ‘we’ referred to specifically, and a brief image of Sera or Bull leaving the sunflower on his windowsill floated into his head before he shooed it away. Surely not?

 

“I’m sorry for my prolonged absence, Sera. I was preoccupied with a bit of research, and I guess I got carried away.” He increased the pace a bit, eager for this conversation to be over. It’s not as though Dorian had been intentionally avoiding the few friends he’d made. How could he explain it to her? That he was trapped in his own head like a rodent in a labyrinth? That even now, spending a handful of moments with one of the people closest to him required a great deal of energy that he did not have?

 

Sera huffed. “Well you were gone a bloody long time. Don’t disappear like that again! Things were quiet without you. We thought maybe you had run back to Tevinter or something.” She made a sour expression at the thought. “I told Varric to check the library. I would have gone myself but the librarians won’t let me anywhere near the rotunda since I set off that stink bomb under Solas’ desk. It was worth it though, he smelled like rotten egg for days! Fitting right?”

 

Dorian tried to bite back the laugh that bubbled inside him but it was no use, it could not be contained. When it was over he smiled and cleared his throat. “Sera, I’ll do my best not to vanish again but you must promise me not to irritate the librarians too much. They can be the most malicious creatures when crossed! I saw one try to incinerate an apprentice in Minrathous for sneezing on a copy of Divine Beatrix’s autobiography.” They reached the door to the lower kitchens together and he took a shaky breath. Without breaking his stride, Dorian opened the door and stepped through.

 

“Spoilsport” Sera muttered.

…

 

Once Dorian and Sera entered all efforts at baking had halted.

 

Sera went from person to person, greeting and hugging a few of them before introducing Dorian to three or four at a time. There were roughly sixteen people in total and most of them were elbow deep in flour and jam. A few individuals were gracious enough to hide their trepidation when shaking Dorian’s hand, but for the most part everyone was happy to see a new guest joining them, although Dorian got the distinct impression that they all knew who he was long before Sera opened her mouth.

 

When Dorian reached Flissa she stood and hugged him, sincerely expressing how happy she was that he had made it. Beside her was Inquisitor Adaar, whose face lit up the moment he spotted Dorian across the room. Unfortunately, Adaar was genuinely happy to see most people so his expression alone wasn’t much to go on.

 

“Dorian!” The Inquisitor roared then squeezed the man into a bear hug so severe that his feet left the floor. Dorian briefly thought of complaining about his robes wrinkling, but before he could a distressed whine came from his armpit and Adaar dropped the mage like he’d been burnt.

 

The Inquisitor eyed the wrapped bundle under Dorian’s arm. “Is that a cat?” he stammered, at a loss for words.

 

“Why yes, actually.” Dorian unwrapped the bundle a bit and two eyes the color of the fade blinked rapidly until they focused on the Inquisitor. The kitten held Adaar’s gaze then made an irritated sound and burrowed deeper into the cheesecloth and Dorian’s side. Apparently she had been sleeping.

 

“She’s adorable” Flissa cried, petting the cloth despite the disdainful look on the cat’s face. “Is she yours? Where did you find her?”

 

This was Sera’s cue to regale everyone with the events of the last half hour. Her own cat was perched on her bare shoulder, nuzzling into Sera’s hair and enjoying the lavish attention she was being shown by the people around her. Master Dennet, wholly forgotten at the head of the table, glared at Dorian and the mage tried to look apologetic about the disruption as he slid into a stool next to the Inquisitor.

 

“I didn’t know you were into baking.” Dorian teased. He deposited a now fully awake kitten onto his lap and tucked the cloth into his pocket.

 

Inquisitor Adaar shot Dorian a roguish look and just like that the man had his full attention. “It’s a good way to blow off steam. I can’t spend every day roaming the Hinterlands looking for demons to set on fire.” He held a large hand out to the kitten, who sniffed and pawed at it playfully. “I didn’t know you were into cats.”

 

“Didn’t I mention? I adore the little creatures. It’s understandable that you missed that detail; most of our actions together involved travelling through time and preventing a war.” The Inquisitor snorted at him in response and Dorian felt the stuttering in his chest again.

 

“I imagine there’s a lot I don’t know about you…” Adaar said softly, stoking the kitten’s back. He waited for the Inquisitor to finish his line of thought but the man seemed fixated on something, and Dorian’s smile faltered when he realized Adaar’s expression was grave. He watched the Inquisitor slowly extend his hand and trace a shallow line up the wound on the kitten’s leg. “What happened?” he whispered.

 

“I’m not sure, we found her like this” Dorian sighed. “I’m terrible at restoration magic, or I would have healed it by now. We came here to get the poor thing something to eat before finding a medic. Maker knows how long that will take at this hour.”

 

The Inquisitor leaned towards the mage, cupping his hands around the kitten’s side and lifting the cat to inspect the wound further. Dorian felt the pull of magic buzzing around him, like sparks of lightning dancing across his skin. The magic swelled and ebbed around the Qunari like a current until finally, he released the breath he was holding and took a second look at the wound.

 

It hadn’t fully healed, but most of the open tissue had coalesced into a fine silver scar that ran up the length the hind leg and what was left open barely grazed the skin. When Adaar returned the kitten to Dorian’s lap she shifted her weight onto each foot carefully, marveling at having full use of her limbs again. If the wound still caused her any pain, she didn’t show it.

 

Dorian felt as enchanted as she did. “I didn’t know you were a healer?”

 

Adaar snapped out of a daze and smiled sheepishly. “I wouldn’t go that far. My mother was a medic under the Qun, the only one in her village. She taught me a little of what she knew. It was about the only magical training I ever got.”

 

That was surprising. Dorian was beginning to grasp just how little he knew about the Qunari and their customs outside of the war. “I didn’t think the Qun allowed Serabaas to practice magic casually, even for medical purposes?”

 

Adaar flinched at the Qunlat. “They don’t, but under very specific circumstances exceptions can be made” he said. His cheerful demeanor was gone, and a rare flash of anger crossed his face then melted into sorrow.

 

Dorian didn’t know what to say. Adaar’s situation was completely foreign to him, but he wanted to understand. “Tell me about her.”

 

The Inquisitor was surprised at the request, but tried to answer the man as best he could. “She was the most naturally gifted healer I’ve ever met, even the Ariqun took notice of her while she still worked in Par Vollen. My mother always used to tell me that there was more to healing than just spells, and at first I didn’t know what she meant. She used to slip the children in the village honey crystals to eat whenever they passed her clinic and told them it helped with indigestion, but I think she just loved the raw joy on their faces when they tasted the candy” he said softly, picking at his fraying robe. When Dorian had no response forthcoming, he continued.

 

“Once she had an old man with chest pains that was in her care for four days, and died on the fifth. She knew that she couldn’t save him, but every time she had a spare moment she would pull a chair up to his bed along with some sewing or fruits to peel and start a conversation with him; about his family in Qunandar, his interests, the weather, anything. By the fourth day they were chatting like old friends, but the pain in his chest was getting worse. She used magic to ease his pain; it was always her last resort. On the morning of his passing, he held my mother’s hand and thanked her for listening. She couldn’t save him, but she had helped him the only way she knew how.”

 

“Your mother sounds like a remarkable woman.” Dorian placed a hand on the Qunari’s shoulder. His own mother had been nothing like that, but his memories of her were flooded with mixed emotions that Dorian had no desire to examine further. Adaar looked like he was going through something similar.

 

Adaar grasped Dorian’s hand but didn’t move it away. He leaned closer into the mage and suddenly Dorian had trouble breathing. “She used to say that every wound was a riddle and solving it required more than bandages. Some people heal with sunshine and some with rain.” He smiled warmly. “Some with words and others with flowers. Everyone’s different.”

 

Master Dennet’s gruff voice startled them out of the illusion of privacy and they jerked away from each other. “All right! I love animals as much as the next man, but if you can all wash up so that we can continue. And get that beast of the counter!” He snarled at Sera, whose kitten was inching dangerously close to a ball of raw dough. “Andraste mark me, if I find cat hair in my scones a demon army will be the least of your problems girl!”

 

Adaar wasn’t listening. He turned his attention back to the man beside him with a wistful expression in his eyes, and Dorian knew. He _knew_ without a doubt, what those flowers were for _._

The Qunari lowered his voice, despite the entire room remaining oblivious to the two of them. Dorian would have to thank Sera later. “Most of the people here will be meeting up for drinks at the Herald’s Rest afterwards, but I was hoping…” his voice wavered and he swallowed, resolved to get the words out. “I was hoping that maybe we could take that walk later tonight?”

 

Well that wasn’t what Dorian expected to hear. “Eager to get me alone Inquisitor?” he teased.

“What? No! I...” he stammered, and Dorian could practically see his face heating up. “I didn’t mean anything untoward! Maker, is that why you were so skeptical of the suggestion before? Its just…” he stopped to calm himself. “It would be worth your time, I promise.”

 

Dorian thought about how exhausted he was, and how good the quiet of his own room would feel after such an involved day. He’d said more words in the last hour than he had to anyone in the past week. He thought about his promise to Sera then, unexpectedly, about his departure from Tevinter.

 

It was so cold the night that he left. His body had been quivering uncontrollably and he didn’t know if it was from the weather or the sobs that wracked through him. He remembered sitting at the docks for hours, clutching his birthright and watching the boats drift in and out of the harbor as the moon glittered over the Ventosus Strait. For the first time in his life, Qarinus was quiet and his mind was empty. He didn’t know what came next, but he prayed harder than he ever had for that quiet to last forever. When the sun eventually rose over the city and the dockworkers started filing out of their homes, it was as if a candle had flickered out and Dorian hadn’t been able to light it since.

 

_Get out! You are no son of mine!_

He was so very tired.

 

Adaar ran feather light touches against Dorian’s fingertips, up his knuckles, around his thumb then tenderly massaged his palm, slowly bringing him back.

 

“I’d never ask you to do something you didn’t want to do. Please don’t say yes if you’d rather not go, an evening out with you doing anything would be a dream, even baking” he joked. “We could stay here for all that I care. Dorian?” Adaar squeezed his hand, worried.

 

“I want to go” Dorian croaked, cleared his throat, and then tried again. “On the walk, with you, I want to go.”

 

Adaar released Dorian’s hand and sat back in his chair, looking uncertain. “Are you sure?”

 

Dorian took a deep breath. “I’m sure”

 

Adaar was smiling again, and it was as bright as the moon in a cloudless sky. “Meet me by the gardens an hour before midnight.”

 

…

 

Dorian sat on a stone bench off the main hall. It was an hour to midnight and Skyhold was still bustling with people. He had returned to his room for the first time in nearly twenty four hours to grab his coat and staff, and while he was there he placed his pillow under the windowsill and set a couple of pieces of bread from the kitchen next to it along with the now tattered cheesecloth. He placed the kitten on the pillow and tucked her into the cloth. She yawned, looking almost gleeful and made a satisfied sound.

 

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised. He left the door slightly ajar in case the cat decided that she preferred the wilderness after all. Dorian hoped she would still be there when he returned. He’d grown fond of her.

 

He scanned the stream of people going in and out of the castle, and tried not to look anxious. He saw a flash of horns heading in his direction and stood, but it was The Iron Bull, who approached the mage and greeted him cheerfully.

 

“Dorian! It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I haven’t seen you around much. Are you going to join us at the tavern later? Varric’s teaching The Chargers Wicked Grace.”

 

Dorian chuckled at the thought. Varric needed to be stopped. “I have something I have to see to first but I might find my way there later. Tell Varric to go easy on them, would you?”

 

Bull rumbled with laughter then slapped Dorian on the back, almost knocking him over. “We’ll save you a drink, Dorian!”

 

Bull walked off and Dorian rubbed at his stinging shoulder. He glanced around him but Adaar was nowhere to be found. There was however, a very pale figure standing directly behind him.

 

Dorian turned to face him. “Hello Cole.”

 

Cole smiled brightly. “Hello Dorian! You look well.”

 

“Don’t I always?” he sighed. “I was wondering when we were going to talk. Although I admit, I expected you to appear earlier”

 

“I didn’t have to.” The boy was practically beside himself. “There are people who care about you. I think you forgot, but they made it real, the way that I’m real even though sometimes you can’t see me. They loosened the knot so you could breathe. You hadn’t done it in so long. It’s wonderful.”

 

“Er, thank you Cole.” Dorian said, and he meant it.

 

“Your father was wrong Dorian, very wrong. You don’t have to wilt or be afraid. You don’t have to hide.”

 

A long silence stretched between them as Dorian searched for the words. “I know Cole, but I think I needed to be reminded.”

 

The boy hummed and looked to the archway leading to the gardens. “The Inquisitor’s coming, and he has a present for you.”

 

Dorian thought of the two flowers keeping each other company on his windowsill, and felt a smile blossom on his face. “I think I know what it is,” he said. Is that why the man was late? He was impossible.

 

“I think you should name your cat Reva. Do you like it?”

 

“Reva?” Dorian asked. The Inquisitor rounded the corner of the corridor Cole pointed out and Dorian spotted him immediately, his dark skin a radiant blue in the moonlight.

 

Cole nodded enthusiastically. “Your Reva, you needed a new one because your other one tore. I think it’ll fit, like the puzzle spheres you used to play with before they were taken away.”

 

Dorian remembered. He was very young and obsessed with puzzles and algorithms. He would spend hours in his room solving one and then another, fitting pieces into each other and relishing the sound of two components locking together perfectly. His mother called them a distraction. Anything outside of the parameters they set was a distraction. Dorian wondered how differently his life might have played out if they had just let him grow.

 

“I’ll consider it, Cole. Feel free to visit her every once in a while, I have a feeling the two of you will get along famously.”

 

The Inquisitor approached them, struggling to catch his breath. “I’m sorry that I’m late. Josephine cornered me and needed to discuss a few things for the Crestwood expedition. Hello Cole,” he nodded at the boy who looked confused.

 

“Red stands for affection. Red didn’t know it could do that; be more than what it was. If enough people believe something, does that make it true?” Cole pondered, then disappeared into the crowd of people.

 

They watched Cole go then turned to each other. The faint tint of a blush was visible on the Inquisitor’s face. “Before we go, I have something for you. Although I’m sure you’ve figured out where the flowers were coming from by now.”

 

“Ah yes!” Dorian grinned, placing a hand over his heart. “Scout Harding is my lead suspect, that girl is as stealthy as they come and if anyone could locate a sunflower in the dead of winter, it’s her. She’ll be heartbroken when I confront her about it, but I already have my sights on someone a bit…taller.”

 

Adaar snorted and tried to look disapproving, but he failed miserably. “Scout Harding might be good for you. She isn’t a danger to be around and could definitely give you the time and attention you deserve. Also, tall people are notoriously unreliable. Just look at Corypheus, he’s the size of a nuggalope.”

 

“And he’s about as smart as one too.” Dorian smiled wryly “Unfortunately, I require a degree of culinary talent in my partner. Do you think her cherry scones measure up?”

 

The smile on Adaar’s lips threatened to split his face in two at this point. He reached into his coat pocket and carefully handed Dorian a red rose. “Maker Dorian! Please just take it, or we’ll be standing here all night.”

 

Dorian had seen roses before, heartbreakingly beautiful roses in every color they naturally came in and a few magically altered ones as well. He had even received two or three from various apprentices in different Circles. He held the rose tenderly and brought it up to his nose to smell, and to hide the goofy expression on his face. The sight of a rose has never made him feel this giddy. Still grinning like a child, he tried to compose himself and steady his voice. “My dear Inquisitor, where exactly are you getting these flowers from?”

 

“Come on. It will make more sense when we get there, hopefully.” He gestured toward the main hall. “Shall we?”

 

They walked through the undercroft to a secluded stairwell that winded past the waterfall and into the mountain. The tunnels Adaar led them to were spacious and saturated with the dank smell of mold. Discharge from the waterfall trickled down into the shafts, creating puddles and wearing at the rock formations. It was sheer luck that a cave-in hadn’t collapsed the area completely yet.

 

They walked side by side, Adaar leading them through the underground maze and Dorian providing fire to light the way. The Qunari seemed far more confident in the structural integrity of the tunnels than Dorian felt. “I had no idea Skyhold was this expansive” Dorian murmured.

 

“No one did. The night we arrived at Skyhold I began constructing a map of the castle along with the surrounding territories. We needed to establish evacuation routes as soon as possible, and if Skyhold were ever under siege this is the fastest way into the mountains. Come on, it’s not much further.”

 

The tunnels lead them to a snowy valley at the heart of the mountain. The gaping mouth of a crumbling cavern towered over the eastern side of the valley, with icicles clinging to its roof like jagged teeth. It looked like the sort of place a high dragon would occupy, waiting for thoughtless travelers to trespass so that it could make examples out of them. Dorian always tried to avoid shadowy caves, and the things usually found inside of them, but Adaar made a beeline for the entrance and he reluctantly followed.

 

They walked a couple of paces past the entrance before Adaar lit a torch. Inside the cavern looked nothing like it’s ominous exterior. In fact, Dorian thought, it was down right homey. Equipment lay on a makeshift table near the entrance: a compass and a sextant, several sheets of parchment, a protractor, measuring sticks, and pieces of shale. There was a large tent near the back of the cave made out of canvas and haphazardly placed blankets. Dorian could see a number of books and crumpled notes within the tent itself, along with a Qunari sized bedroll. Next to it was a large, well-used fire pit filled to the brim with ash and soot with an improvised cooking spit positioned over it.

 

At the center of the cavern was a circular plot of land the size of the war room, outlined by colorful rocks, gemstones, and shells from the Storm Coast. The land had clearly been cultivated, and recently. The soil was freshly turned and little sprouts and budding could be seen poking out of the dirt. A garden?

 

Adaar rubbed the back of his neck, a little embarrassed. “This seems more elaborate than it really is. I was looking for a place to rest while scouting the mountains when I came across this cave, and I guess I kept coming back to it. I kept finding a reason to” he shrugged.

 

Dorian took it all in little by little. It was clear that this space was very dear to the Inquisitor, and that he made the trek out here often. “Does Leliana know about this?” he asked.

 

“Oh she knows” Adaar laughed. “Trying to keep a secret from her is impossible. Leliana understands that I come out here when I need to clear my head, so she hasn’t mentioned it to anyone yet. And she won’t, as long as I’m not in any immediate danger.”

 

They walked to the fire pit and Dorian watched The Inquisitor try to get a fire going without magic, before sitting at his side. Adaar took a deep breath before finally turning to Dorian, but the Qunari couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I like you Dorian. I wanted to get to know you better, ever since Redcliffe Castle. I think you’re a good man, among other things. But since you joined the Inquisition you’ve looked so heartbroken, like you were collapsing inside of yourself. I didn’t know what to do, or if it was Alexius’ fate that troubled you so or something else entirely.” Adaar spoke quickly, picking at his fraying robe once again.

 

“That’s how the flowers got started initially. I just wanted to make you smile, even if it was just once. Show you that’s there’s beauty down here in the south as well. You’ve told me that you’re far from home, in more ways than one, but hopefully the Inquisition can help you build a new one. And if you ever need to escape for a bit, you can come here. Having somewhere to go when you get overwhelmed, or a person to talk to, can make all the difference.”

 

Dorian leaned into the Qunari, and Adaar jumped when he felt the man’s head on his shoulder, but he didn’t move away. Dorian’s face was turned so the Qunari couldn’t see him, but Adaar felt the dampness of tears through his robe anyway. Dorian felt a strong arm wrap itself around him, and somehow started crying harder.

 

“And here I thought they were grand romantic gestures” Dorian laughed, his voice shaky.

“They were! I was interested in you in that way as well, but I didn’t know…I’ve never really- Oh Maker!” Adaar was giggling too now. He pressed a kiss to the top of Dorian’s head. “I went about this all wrong, didn’t I?”

 

Dorian sniffed wetly. “People don’t usually end up crying on the first date, although the scenery is nice so I’ll give you that.”

 

“You’re going to be the death of me. Do I get points for making you scones earlier?”

 

“Seeing as how Reva ate most of it, no you don’t.”

 

Adaar leaned back for a moment. “Reva?”

 

“Oh yes.” Dorian used his sleeve to dry his face before facing the Qunari. “Cole suggested that as a name for my cat. He said it fits, like a puzzle piece.”

 

Adaar hummed, then pulled the mage closer to him. “I see, did you ask him why?”

 

Dorian spluttered into Adaar’s shoulder, then stared at the man like he had two heads. “Heavens no! Who knows what long forgotten ruin in my memories he pulled that one from? But it’s as good of a name as any I’ve thought of so far.”

 

They sat in comfortable silence for a while longer, the crackling of the fire and the occasional sniff from Dorian the only sounds between them. Dorian pulled the rose from his pocket and held it to his nose. He breathed in the calming perfume and breathed out his worries, again and again, until the aching in his chest stopped. Adaar was perfectly still next to him.

 

“You never told me where the flowers came from.” Dorian mumbled through a yawn. The Inquisitor excused himself for a moment, ignoring Dorian’s sounds of protests, and pulled one of the heavy blankets off of the tent. He wrapped the blanket around both of them then settled back into Dorian’s side.

 

“Actually, I already had them” he snorted, looking embarrassed again. Adaar grew quiet, trying to find the words that would make Dorian understand. When he did begin speaking it was slow and measured. This was a topic the Inquisitor had lost a lot of sleep over.

 

 

“I’ve met a lot of good people since the Conclave Dorian, especially within the ranks of the Inquisition. Brave people, kind people, but what we’re up against has them terrified, and they should be. Especially after Haven.” The Qunari tried to keep his face neutral, but there was a heavy sorrow in his eyes. He shivered, pulled the blanket tighter around him, and continued.

 

“Things are going to get worse before they get better, much worse. There’s a lot of pressure on the Inquisition to succeed, and people are starting to buckle under it. Cassandra, Bull, Josephine, The Iron Lady; all of the members of the Inner Circle thrive under pressure. It’s who we are, and it’s how we got here. But we can’t expect everyone who joins our cause to live like that. People need a way to cool off when things get heavy. Flissa’s baking group is perfect; it’s a place where folks can go to unwind and connect with each other, and it reminds them that they aren’t alone here. Cullen is setting up sparing rings so that the soldiers can blow off steam between missions, which is a brilliant idea. These are a good start but they aren’t enough. We need a place for people to go when they get overwhelmed besides the tavern, or the anxiety is going to kill us off before Corypheus does.”

 

“I wanted to transform the garden in Skyhold into that place. Josephine and Mother Giselle have already sent me a few ideas, and Madame Vivienne agreed to order flowers and seeds from Orlais on my behalf. I told her that we could find seeds for almost anything in the Hinterlands, but she refused the idea outright.” He grinned, his usual cheer coming back. “So that’s where the flowers came from, and why I’m always wandering the castle at night checking on people, making sure that their alright. We’ll stop Corypheus; I have no doubt of that. But I don’t want to run good people into the ground to do it.”

 

Dorian was fully awake now, but still snuggled into Adaar side. He folded his hand into the Qunari’s larger one, threaded their fingers together and let his thumb caress the black skin. “I think you’re more like your mother than you give yourself credit for, Inquisitor” he whispered.

 

Adaar's smile crumpled, and now it was his turn to hide his face and wipe his eyes. “Thank you, Dorian. She would have liked you I think, once she got over my romantic interest in man of Tevinter origin. An Altus too, she would have tried to hex you for sure!”

 

Dorian moved up so that he could gently turn Adaar’s face back towards him; he almost had to kneel to be at eye level with the giant. “It’s alright. If my family ever found out that I was kissing a Qunari in a cave somewhere in the Frostback Mountains, at least two people would faint straight away. Healers would be summoned, smelling salts located, faces fanned, it would be an absolute mess.”

 

Adaar wrapped an arm around Dorian’s waist and pulled him in until their foreheads were touching. “I guess this will have to stay between us then?”

 

Dorian frowned. “Excuse me Inquisitor Adaar, I think you misunderstood. I’m going to kiss you, hopefully the first of many times in many locations, and every single person in Skyhold is going to know about it. And if word reaches my family, then they can shove off.”

 

Adaar burst into laughter, he was trembling with it and tears were rolling down his cheeks. Dorian wrapped his arms around Adaar’s neck, practically having to sit in the man’s lap to do it, and kissed him through the giggles. When they finally stopped, Adaar took a deep breath and kissed Dorian properly this time, and Dorian felt like he would surely float into the sky if Adaar’s strong arms weren’t holding him so tightly.

 

They stayed there all night, talked about everything and nothing then eventually fell asleep by the dying fire. They walked back to the castle hand in hand with the sunrise, and promised to meet again before the day was over. When Dorian entered his room, Reva bounced off of her makeshift bed to greet him, and he lifted the kitten into his arms. He placed the rose in the mug alongside the sunflower and the poppy, then grabbed his staff and walked into the corridors, savoring the feeling of the sun on his skin.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Head canon: Dorian used to be really into the Tevinter Imperium version of a Rubik's cube when he was little and went to libraries to find books on how to solve them. It became such a passion of his that it began to interfere with his studies and his parents thought it best that he took a break. Dorian tried to get back into them when he was older, but he was far too busy to sit in his room with a puzzle all day. He told himself that eventually he'll find the time to try again.
> 
> Second head canon: Reva was a stuffed animal that Dorian would toddle around with when he was a baby. He slept with it, ate with it, and bathed with it. It got so dirty that his parents tried to replace it several times but baby Dorian refused. Eventually one of it's legs tore, and Dorian's parents promised to fix it but instead stored Reva away in one of the forgotten guest rooms, where she still is to this day.


End file.
